Look at Your Face in the Mirror
by Traillbits
Summary: A Phantom's thoughts on a mirror and how perhaps beauty could be created out of something that once reflected back such ugliness at him. Set in ALW universe.


He hadn't meant to remove the sheet, he'd lost his footing and that was the first thing Erik grabbed trying to catch his fall.

To anyone else it was a beautiful mirror. It was massive with crystal shinning arches and curves around it's frame. The glass was pristine without a single crack or imperfection. Clearly it was older, handed down through the family line.

It was a marvel, but to the Phantom it was a hateful reminder of what he was.

His mismatch coloured eyes stung with hot tears glancing back at his reflection. Even with the mask on nothing could make him forget what lay underneath the porcelain.

"Go away! GO AWAY!" Erik shrieked pounding his clenched hands against the glass which shook with each pounding fist.

Plagued with memories of his mother shoving his face bare in front of the mirror-a much smaller scale mirror than this one. How whenever he had done something she had construed in her mind as wrong or naughty, she would drag him despite his pleas and force him to look upon that ghastly reflection. She did nothing to comfort him as Erik screamed staring in horror at the twisted face that shrieked back at him. The sunken in cheek, the mangled ridges of flesh, the gash like mark that even his hair wouldn't hide. Eventually as he grew older even his dark hair turned grey and began to recede until he was left with small wisps on his head before he even turned thirty-not that the man knew his own age exactly as he was never told when his birthday was.

Staring in horror at himself, the scars in the prison of his mind could not be fooled by the mask and wig he adorned.

 _Monster_ Hate filled voices whispered in his head.

"Stop it," The Phantom mumbled.

 _Freak, abomination, wretched_

"Enough!" Erik growled through gritted teeth, covering his ears. But there was no evading the words in his head.

 _Hideous, unlovable_

"GO AWAY!" The man roared with rage, his scream echoing all around him like a dozen voices all at once. Throwing his fist down hard he finally heard that piercing sound of glass shattering and felt sharp pain as shiny shards were embedded in the pasty toned flesh of his hands.

Looking down at his bleeding hands-the physical pain numbed by his mental torment-Erik fell to his knees in front of the broken mirror. If someone were to travel down the underground lake, the sound of pain stricken sobs would meet their ears. The sound not unlike a ghostly wail of despair.

* * *

For days his mismatch eyes glanced up at the broken empty mirror frame.

He had recovered from his episode the other night. His hands held tiny scars from the mirror shards, but otherwise were healed. If only his damaged mind could heal just as easily.

At first his initial thought was to destroy and dispose of what remained. He hadn't understood why even kept the mirror while it was intact in the first place. But his blue brown eyes hovered over the regal curves and arches designed in the frame, seeming to contrast with the few shards of broken glass that remained. Something beautiful needed to come out of what once reflected such ugliness as his accursed face. He sat upon his throne in deep thought about it. The first thing that came to mind was his protege, his angel.

Christine. Never before had he seen a fairer creature than her in his life.

She was beauty, pure and pristine in every way. Her eyes seemed to shine like the bright blue sky he had denied himself in his underground home. Her chestnut coloured curls framed her face perfectly and free of imperfection.

During his time contracting in Persia, constructing torture traps made of mirrors for the country's dynasty. He recalled how the Shah had kept several concubines for himself, choosing only the most voluptuous and beautiful women to stay in his palace and by extension his bed. All of them were well toned, long flowing hair, dressed in exotic garbs and jewels like dolls.

But they paled in comparison to Christine. Erik's eyes had never fallen on anyone more beautiful than her. She did not need jewels or expensive gowns to be beautiful.

He now knew what his next project would be with this broken mirror.

A master architect in his own right, this was a child's play project in comparison to the wide scale designs he had created in the past. But nevertheless it was something Erik devoted much time and attention into with each curve and detail.

* * *

He rearranged the veil on the top of the mannequin' s head. He stepped back, marvelling at the bride before him. Caressing it's cold, lifeless cheek he only wished she were here and real.

"Oh Christine…"

He often talked to the bride in the mirror, she listened to every word he said without question or revulsion.

"I….Christine I just." The Phantom would fumble with the right words, as if speaking directing to his pupil. " I feel I must apologise to you. I am no angel, not even a phantom. Merely a man, just a man of flesh and blood. But I have to….I have to tell you."

Stepping closer towards the mannequin he looked in its eyes.

"I love you"

He sighed, knowing he would never have such courage to say this to her. Only the mannequin would hear these words.

"You are so perfect. Swaying so gracefully on the stage, you make Aphrodite herself appear the part of a sow. And your voice makes even the angels above weep in delight."

With a shaky sigh, Erik continued. "Christine…I love you. I know this might over step a boundary we've had together, as master and pupil. But please is it….is it possible for you to love a loathsome love sick creature such as me?"

The mannequin only continued to stare blank and lifeless. He wasn't that mad out of his mind to have expected it to respond. Evenings went by like this, and each passing night the hopeless longing he felt continued to plague him.

Erik only wished he could have said these things to Christine.

But when his chance finally came, having whisked her away from her dressing room and that foppish Vicomte, it did not go as planned. Instead he only screamed at her when he felt her nimble hands in a flash remove his mask the following morning.


End file.
